


when we were young they assumed we knew nothing

by xiijen



Category: Mo Dao Zu Shi, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things but not really, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Married Life, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, dive to the past, it's ok they're soulmates they WILL find each other, kinda slow burn idk, they're IN LOVE DAMMIT, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiijen/pseuds/xiijen
Summary: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were only certain of one thing in their lives.And that was each other.
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	when we were young they assumed we knew nothing

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this fic was inspired by taylor swift’s “cardigan” and one line specifically that sparked it all: “when you are young they assume you know nothing”  
> ✰i’ve realized the importance of truly knowing someone’s self in order to love and understand them fully. knowing, in medieval china, was the most highest form of affection two could have between each other, besides loving. to know is to mirror each other’s hearts.  
> ✰and i wanted to represent the rawness of the relationship of knowing to my two loves, wangxian  
> ✰i was also inspired by this long explanation of this verbal use of knowing in the untamed by hunxi-guilai on tumblr!  
> ✰i highly recommend listening to “cardigan” before/during your read. the melody of the song is the feel i try to portray in this story
> 
> basics;  
> ✰ an informal 5+1 type-style of writing  
> ✰ each scene tackles the theme of knowing different things during their journey of life  
> ✰ mostly follows cql timeline  
> ✰ later post-canon scenes, established relationship (married!) wangxian hehe  
> ✰ very romantic and soulmate-y with angst, fluff and all that good shit
> 
> enjoy! ✰

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊ ☾⋆

┊ ⊹ ┊

✯ ⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚✩

_ was there ever a war in your mind? _

_ no, there wasn’t.  _

No voice would utter his name. A mere cadence, a simple syllable. It was as if his existence was banished with the storms of yesterday, petrichor a heavy smoke screen for disappearing silhouettes. Yet real and rained upon with thousands of thundering voices, he trekked aimlessly on stone streets with stubby toes. Sticky fingers, no, glassy eyes sought out a drum on a stand. One that rattled steadier than his small heart.

A voice shouted, and his body began to run.

The sensitive scars around his hands stung, the merchant's punishment buzzing on blistering skin. He was familiar with the throttle of pushes of loud sellers, shooing him like a bug. What next? What could he do to the slosh of the city's traders, besides splash upon them like puddles? His mind stilled on little toys and heated buns as he wandered far on a path of certainty yet…

He would never know when his next meal would come.

“Mom?” On hopeless nights he would speak to thin air, dirtied hands fiddling with fabric’s torn edges. Other times, like a practice, he would whisper his own voice to remind him who he is. Sometimes he would forget. And at night under dim lanterns, he tread alone, wandering without end. He took time studying the buzzing flies that gathered around lamps, the way old and rickety carts would retract a bit before they started to move. And the fingers of the greedy, snatching goods and money quicker than he could comprehend. At brittle times like those, his hunger would get the best of him. Would it be so bad to ask the lady regularly stationed at the alley for a bun? Just one bite? Just one sliver to assure him that no one wants him to die?

Maybe someday, someone would say his name.

But for now, the bun thrown at him was enough, the wild look in the wrinkled lady’s eyes burned to the back of his mind. She had shouted to get lost, which was utterly useless, because he already was. But the weight sinking through his fingers cracked a smile on his face. The heat of the inside, fresh and steamy, greeted him with one big watery bite. White dough tasted so sickly sweet, and the pork was spicy with fire. Wei Wuxian’s chuckle was muffled, as he took his time savoring the flavor.

And that was all he had.

_ Wei Ying? _

His mind blanked. All there was was white, lights, frost, snow. That voice… That name… Who…?

_ Wei Ying. _

Chase it, chase it! Wei Wuxian bolted upwards, the half eaten bun stuck to his grubby hands. “Who are you?” He knew his name, he  _ knew  _ his name! It didn’t sound like mom or dad, or anyone he knew. The voice was deep, like a base rattling his ears no more than his heart. A storm perhaps, naught of sleet but of falling snow—a peace. “I… I am Wei Ying!” The blinding lights of the town blurred into one pulse, guiding his curious eyes toward the sky. The moon, so beautifully iridescent, shone beams down his ragged face. He stood still as he awaited the voice to speak again.

_ Wei… Ying… _

It was a brush of a whisper, a faint glimmer against the fallen ink of the sky. Whatever Wei Wuxian heard, he wanted to capture it. He wanted it clutched near his heart, deep into the core of his chest. And so he started to run. Running, running, never daring to stop. Pearlescent tears running down his cheeks, home,  _ home,  _ perhaps…? Someone could be his solace? Run, Wei Ying, run, run—!

“Wei Wuxian!” Lan Qiren snapped, his name like a vile poison upon his tongue. The already far too stiff class froze even tighter in place, craning their necks at the unceremonious entrance. Stumbling at the door, Wei Wuxian caught his breath, a thin smirk curled on his lips. “Clearly, you do not know  _ any _ rule upon the Wall of Discipline!”

He knew more useful things than  _ that,  _ thank you very much.

“Sorry I’m late, teacher.” He bowed as a mischievous glance to his right earned him a scowl from his brother. “I woke up late, that’s all. Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit now.”

An obvious grunt earned the class a new unpleasant ambience. “Wei Wuxian, do you know  _ why  _ you are here?”

“I’m assuming it’s to learn all your boring rules.” He stated matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t been to class already this past week (and almost late… every time). “I mean, three thousand? Isn’t that just too much? Even thirty rules would be exhausting to obey.”

As if the class wasn’t awkward enough, a voice called out near his side. “A-Xian…” His sister whispered, giving him a worried expression. He glanced at her, pouting. Alright. He would stop.

“Until you learn to obey by clan rules, you will be punished. Seeing as you—” The old man rattled on and on, lecturing about lessons and obedience and whatnot. He pretended to listen, of course, nodding when it was probably the right time, sitting Lan-like straight just as… just as…

The Second Jade of Lan…

Oh, the striking white-hot paragon of the budding cultivation youth. Lan Wang ji-- the man that knew everything. About the rules. About the lessons. About life and how it ebbs and flows, about the trickle of seasons and how time balances from night to day, a vessel of equity between the sky and earth. 

Right?

He stared at his radiating presence, a crystalline snowflake amidst the blizzard of Gusu. One day, he would capture it with delicate fingers, or perhaps on the tip of his tongue. Carefully and gently… Lan Wangji was far from delicate—perhaps the blizzard itself—but for some reason Wei Wuxian wanted to hold him close to his heart… Yes, that thing that beated stronger than any rattle drum or enemy of his body. “Lan Zhan…” He cooed to himself. The name, so familiar on his tongue, etched for a taste of more. He started to melt, slowly and carefully to the ground. “Lan… Lan Zhan…”

“Mm.”

The dimness of the cave did nothing against Lan Wangji’s beauty. But they were broken, both of them, yet their hearts were so full. Wei Wuxian didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t expect the attack from earlier.

_ Wei Ying? _

There it was. He was far from that moonlit night yet he felt the moon holding him in its enchanting embrace, so ethereal and  _ there.  _ Oh, he loved the cloud embedded on metal, he loved the fingers that played the guqin. The rules, whatever they were, didn’t seem so bad if it was to stay near the moon, up in the mountains near its gleaming beacon.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji’s voice was music to his ears. Music. A song in the night. Hey, maybe… just for a second, can you… Lan…

“Lan Zhan… could you sing me a song?” One of Cloud Recesses nights, and innocent days near blooming lotus. He didn’t know which one brought him more happiness. Gods, did he have a clue of what  _ anything  _ meant anymore?

A strum of strings, no, a voice sounded. It bounced against damp stone and came gathering right at Wei Wuxian’s ear, so close that he could feel shivers run along his spine. The song…  _ their  _ song. Even as his consciousness ripped away from him little by little, he indulged in his selfishness. Who cares what happens? Screw the cultivation world, and screw everyone in it. Right now, with Lan Wangji, he felt safe.

The clouds dimmed his vision of the moon above.

你把我當成什麼人?

_ What kind of person do you take me for? _

_ 我曾經把你當做我 _ **_畢生知己_ **

_ I had once thought that, in my lifetime, you would be the one who knew me. _

_ 現在仍是  _

_ I still am. _

(He  _ knew  _ Lan Zhan.)

(And Lan Zhan knew him.)

“Wei Ying. Come back.”

(Wei Wuxian didn’t even know himself anymore, so how was he supposed to know who the man in front of him was?)

“Come back to Gusu with me.”

Wei Wuxian scoffed, a playful smirk strewn across his face. What a joke. To Gusu? Where all there had been was rules and clouds and cold thin air? Where it budded frost not only on his fingers, but in the crevices his mind? Gusu was nothing to him. Nor was the man garbed in white and blue, shining down on him like he was the darkness he always hated as a child.

A shrill sound of a flute concluded his thoughts.

_ Wait, no! I’ll come back with you, please… please, I just— _

_ was there ever a war in your mind? _

_ yes. _

In the Burial Mounds he lay fallen, like a defeated angel; there were a thousand voices yet again. They were thunderous, booming with screams of the damned. It was dark, cold, hungry… the pit of hell, the place where Wei Wuxian belonged.

It was back to his low, with hunger and ebony nights.

He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be gone. But yet, he lay there one with the bones, heart still rattling stronger than a stupid little drum. Why, why,  _ why?  _ Why get up and face the world? Why carry on and live? Did living really make anything right anymore? At his lowest, Wei Wuxian did not know anything. What to do, how to act, what to say, who to speak to. His name, once a desperation and now an annoyance, screamed.

“Wei Wuxian!”

“A-Xian…”

“The Yiling Patriarch…!”

“...Wei Wuxian.”

They all saw who he was. But no one  _ knew _ him.

_ Wei Ying. _

His eyes opened. That voice… that one goddamned voice… No… It can't be him. Not down in these depths of rubble, not mortal and mingled with the fallen.

_ Wei Ying. _

And just like that, Wei Wuxian got up.

(He decided that he wanted to live. For him.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was laughable, the way Wei Wuxian saw where he was. The Wen’s smiled at him as he planted lotus seeds in the dirt, hoping that they would sprout. Of course they would, even though he didn’t know how the hell to grow them correctly. Perhaps after planting radishes, and maybe a potato or two, he would start his own garden. Herbs. Flowers. Everything in between. It would be gorgeous, like the meadows… up and far from where he was. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Wen Qing scowled at him, startling him from behind. “How are you so sure those are going to grow?”

Wei Wuxian had no clue. “They will! If you believe it, then it will happen. Hadn’t someone told you that when you were younger?” She was silenced. “Besides, it shouldn’t be that hard. After this, I’ll grow a huge garden, then you’ll see.”

“Yeah, right.” She kneeled to his level, focusing on his lonely work. Not too far to the side, she saw a small sketch of what was to come of the pond, the drawing neat and heavily detailed. Squinting, she swore she could make out the shape of small edges of magnolias on the corner of the paper. A branch or two sprouted below them, forming a thin tree barely visible compared to the lotus. A sigh escaped her lips, eyes veering to the busy man. “Also, the parchment that the merchant was selling was way too expensive. I didn’t get any. We don’t have enough money.”

For a while, only the sound of water sloshing and packing dirt was heard. “That’s fine.” And then he continued like nothing happened, arranging the seeds an equal distance from each other.

“Did you need it for your research?”

“No.”

She stood. “Alright then.”

Later that night, when the rest of the Wen’s were fast asleep, Wei Wuxian worked on talismans. He scribbled and stroked, writing tiny to preserve space.

_ Dear Lan Zhan, _

_ I’m sorry you’re getting this letter on my talisman paper. I just couldn’t afford real paper, ha! But don’t worry about me. I still have a lot of money, just for other things! You should really visit me sometime. _

He ripped the paper up.

_ Dear Lan Zhan, _

_ How have you been? I’ve missed y— _

Another one.

_ Dear Lan Zhan, _

_ It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forev— _

Discarded.

_ Dear Lan Zhan, _

He stared at the talisman, brush shaking with anticipation. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to put into words, so many things he wanted to let come out. 

_ I don’t know what I’m doing. To be honest, I haven’t been sure about any step in my life so far. I know I want to help these people, and I know others call me a fool for it. But when I can’t sleep everything bleeds out and I feel so lost, Lan Zhan. Nothing truly feels like home.  _

He shred that one to pieces.

_ Lan Zhan, _

_ When we were young they told me I knew nothing.  _

He shook. One more sentence. One more thing that when once physically seen, cannot be taken back. With determination, he spilled it—the only witness to see was the stygian streaks of the cave, coating him with shadows. And as they crawled over his shoulders, the energy bursting through his spine, he wrote it and stared at it behind flickering candlelight. He looked and saw and his mind was set. There was a hammering contentedness in his mind, a relaxing weight off of his branded chest. 

_ But I knew that I loved you. _

He didn’t tear the talisman up.

It was on his chest as he fell asleep.

(Despite life being a living nightmare, why must it haunt him as he sinks into slumber?) 

He would ask himself that after screaming fits, binded to the ghostly chains of the bed. They were all dying… one by one… at his hand, at his knife, at his will. There would be nights where he could not breathe, as gasping for another breath only choked him down to death more. 

Everything seemed to be dead but him—the numbness would only pulsate with the needles bound to his neck, yet he continued to feel everything else.

And on most nights, he saw a starless sky, no moon to be found. Its gleam, wherever it was, was far beyond his sight. It didn’t drench watery puddles or cut through glassy eyes. It wasn’t in his hands anymore, or holding him for that matter. He would scream but silence himself, biting his torn-through lips until they bled red.

He sobbed and choked and cried, clueless as to what to do. 

At that moment forward, he was finally dead.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first whipcrack cut clean through his skin.

The second one punctured his soul.

“Wh—” He coughed out blood, tons of it, gagging on the floorboards of his own home. With what sunlight shone above him, that glittered upon his complexion, was now focused on the gleaming red of his fractured skin. “What… is…” The third whip sizzled, a lightning rod burning through his torn flesh.

_ What is black? _

Another.

_ What is white? _

One near his shoulders.

_ What is wrong? _

One crossed over another.

_ What is right? _

His entire body burned numb, blood pouring over his back and shoulders, mingling with his bruised fingers. his forehead ribbon, now clanked towards the ground, cracked on the cloud signia. Tears smoothed their way down his cheeks and down to his lips, cracked and stained. The weight of thirty-three whips edged him, kissed him with sharp teeth, tore him like cheap talismans.

Every word he read, every rule he memorized, every book he finished… it all didn’t matter. They fizzled away with every whiplash. 

Lan Wangji was a rule unwritten, a betrayer to his sect. He was nothing but a bloody mess, completely collapsed on the ground. Yet he  _ felt _ … he felt  _ so much _ he finally broke down. Then, a voice.

_ Lan Zhan! _

Another whip, to break his mind.

_ Lan Zhan, let me go. _

“N-no…” One last sweep, and he saw stars, blacking out on the spot. The moon, the tides, or whatever he was, was now hidden in a crepuscular eclipse, dull in its face towards earth. Deadening as it was, his eyes held open in tiny slits. He needed a moment… just a moment to know...

Despite every rule he had broken, he knew for certain that he would never let Wei Ying go again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The whipping rope resembled the long, thin strings of his guqin. His mind remembered the pain all too well, but his back barely felt a thing. The ache rendered him insensible—he could not feel. But within his heart, and down towards his bleeding fingers, he felt all too much.

What lay beyond his unwavering eyes and lips was a child, small and trembling, begging to see the one he loved again.

He should have known there was no hope.

No hope at all, for years.

Helpless. Broken. Jaded.

Maybe one more _ Inquiry _ will speak to him, tell him everything he’s always wanted to say.  _ Wei Ying… please listen.  _

And then, he started to hum. 

His tone cracked and fumbled, fragile in his shaking throat. It was a mere whisper within the wind, to blend with the whistles of falling magnolias and treading rabbits. The gleam of white stone beneath him shone bright yet dulled beside his robes.

All was lost in his mind but one person.

Tiny fingers uselessly plucked and plucked, slow to catch up with his breaking voice. His strings were pulled to breaking as tears found their way in the crumbling cracks of his tune.

_ Please come back to me. _

(When he was young he knew what he was fighting for.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Father, will you dance with me?” Sizhui was only seven, yet he smiled so brightly it would bring the sun to shame every time. A forehead ribbon was perfectly wrapped around his head, framing his cheeks delicately and pristine--Lan Wangji could only stare in disbelief.

“Dance?” Had he danced before?

He nodded, pointing towards the glade. “The bunnies were dancing with each other. I want to, too!” He jumped up in excitement, taking his hands within his father’s larger ones. They were rough, but he didn’t seem to mind. “No one's watching!”

No. He guessed there was really no one watching them. 

Lan Wangji gave him a soft smile, eyes crinkling with the uplift of his lips. “Okay.” Looking down at him was a view Sizhui could only giggle about--like soft rays of morning light, they had each other in their fingers. Wrapped; calloused and young.

And just like that, they were lost in the slowing abyss of time. The glade embosomed streaks of light forming glimmering golden halos. It housed falling petals and traced along silky blossoms, lacing the meadow together, entwining them in one tune.

The crunching of soft grass was muffled by Sizhui’s little laughter, like a bell in summer air. Lan Wangji, taking careful steps to and fro, immersed himself in this foreign feeling. This comfort and beat in his chest was something new and small, but willing to grow. His son, moving in a rhythm matching his flowing outer robes, twirled like a top up on Lan Wangji’s finger. He seemed to like the sway of the spin, as he spun the other way, a giggling fit alongside nuzzling bunnies. “Careful. You will be dizzy.”

Sizhui fumbled with his sleeves, catching himself on his father’s. “Father, you have to sing! You can’t dance without singing!”

“You cannot?” Lan Wangji looked down at him with curiosity, a flash of two butterflies being held by him long ago wrenched in his mind. Sizhui was like a living fairytale. Not exactly folklore, like the ones read in the library pavilion to memorize and to interpret. He was something of a romanticist, a visionary that led one to dreams of jovial joy. He smiled.

“No, you can’t! Or it’s not really dancing.” He pouted. “If you dance with no music, then what’s the point? And in the sect, we use lots of instruments. Maybe one day we could all dance with the butterflies and bun--”

Lan Wangji started to hum.

It was an all too familiar tune, one that seared into his soul.

Sizhui was enchanted. He stood still, eyes wide with gleaming curiosity as he watched his father hum for him, eyes half-lidded in a suspended state of tranquility. The magnolias continued to fall, the bunnies still tread with ease. Yet it seemed as if time had stopped when his voice met Sizhui’s young ears.

Once he was done, there was a moment of silence. They both did not move.

Sizhui jumped up and down. “Do it again! Do it again!”

Their hands met again. “Alright.” And when he started the song again, Lan Wangji twirled his joyous son slowly, seeing a twinkle of Wei Wuxian’s spark within him.

Lan Wangji knew that family came in many different forms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And when Wei Wuxian came back, he was correct in ways he hadn’t imagined. Masked yet playing their song, in a weaker body but still the same soul… it clinged to Lan Wangji like a firstborn child. Wei Wuxian didn’t exactly cry in his arms, no--he breathed steady with each inhale, a soft sigh as an exhale. He focused on his eyes, his parted lips, his warm skin, his pulse quivering through his veins. Was it all a dream, much like Sizhui’s visions? A fanatical fantasy in which his love came back? No, they weren’t Sizhui’s two butterflies, fragile and spurious. This… this was real. It was so painfully real when he carefully removed his mask; and there he was.

Wei Wuxian, in the flesh, alive and sleeping in his arms.

He came back.

He came back to  _ him.  _

His young fantasy, his untamable fire, his first and last kindle of memory. He burned so bright, yet flickered so weakly in his arms, sputters of candlelight fluttering with each small intake of breath. Yet he persevered his light, dim between nimble fingers. Behind lashes, splashed with constellations of tears, Lan Wangji smiled. He smiled his brightest and as best as he could, the crinkles that lined his eyes like little whiskers--rare, yet a sight in all those years. The shadow of Wei Wuxian’s fingers intertwined with his as he moved to touch the little heartbeat under him.

Suddenly, cultivation, worldly concerns--nothing mattered. It was just them in this space.

And so the crafted mask was uplifted and put away, the grays befitting of the cloudy recesses’ night. The matching tone of his eyes were not seen under heavy eyelids as Lan Wangji edged closer, their small breaths mingling into one intimate space. Their pulses, like beats of their melody, filled the air with a bond unexplainable. “Wei Ying.” It was a hush of air, a promise. When Wei Wuxian stirred, his head shifting to the forefront of his arm, Lan Wangji quivered.

And in the silence, he broke. A tear fell down his cheek, voiceless in itself.

( _ I’m so glad you are here. _ )

The sound of a kiss upon his eyelids was hidden within the pitter patter of rain outside. Dampening the petals upon flowers and the curve of Wei Wuxian’s cheek, he kissed the constellations away one by one. Like a lotus in full bloom, like a moon behind no shadow, they savored each other's presence.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled tightly in Lan Wangji’s grip.

They were complete. They were one again.

And as he sobbed, a shaky breath begged to be released. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

  
And once the night fell in its curtain, the world's tides had subsided, and the conflicts of man settled once again to peace, Wei Wuxian started to draw. He loved to draw. Scenery was his forte, and Lan Wangji had always been just that to him. Maybe he hadn’t yet traced his fingers over his jaw and down his neck that night, but a simple brush stroke of the arcs of his face chiseled into his mind just as well. Smooth skin like jade, heart of twinkling gold, celestial thoughts and worldly emotions. Lan Wangji was art in itself, under a crescent hairpiece.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…” He uttered, softly enough for only him to hear. Laying on the bed, he sketched with great care, resting his eyes on the intricacy of his husband’s hairpiece. The Chief Cultivator sat still, meditation rendering him in a serene stillness. “What am I going to do with this complicated design?”

It turned out beautiful, as usual.

It was posted up near the corner of the wall with many, many others. The jingshi, after so many years, felt like a space to be called home. A failed self-portrait hung lopsided near the newest sketch, shaking laughter within the Yiling Patriarch. Shifting it into a proper position, he murmured to himself. “I’ll have to draw another one. This time, with both me and Lan Zhan.” And the wall was always a sight to see, the last thing Lan Wangji would gaze at before he went to work for the day (well, after kissing his sleepy Wei Ying goodbye).

But despite his husband's love for drawing and the support he receives, Lan Wangji’s favorite sketches were the stars traced around his scars deep into nights where only the two of them existed in the world. Scars that spoke more than words or guqin strings. Scars that proved that he knew what he was fighting for.

And enveloped in silence, the stars he felt between his skins numbing spells were enough for both of them. Wei Wuxian’s soft touch assured him that all will be okay. “I wish I was there, Lan Zhan…” He would sometimes whisper, eyes half-lidded in shame. “How could they ever do this to you?”

“It was unavoidable.”

“I would’ve stopped it.” He snapped. “But… I couldn’t.”

“None of it is Wei Ying’s fault.”

“I…” He seemed to hesitate, his fingers pausing upon the imaginary galaxy he created. “I know. Lan Zhan, I just want you to know I’ll always be here from now on. Okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Lan Wangji smiled. “I know you won’t.”

“Good.” He continued lining paths of his cosmic cluster. “...Good.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Huh?” He was startled at the sudden rumble beneath his fingers. And when his husband rose from the bed, hair disheveled yet ribbon intact, his eyes bore deep into Wei Wuxian’s own.

“Do not blame yourself for the past.” It was soft, like a gentle suggestion. “Whoever you were, and who you are now because of it is the man I love." His lips curved in the slightest upturn. “You were never what others have spoken of you.”

“L-Lan Zhan…”

“They don’t know you. They never knew you.” His words came like a tidal wave. “But I do.”

Wei Wuxian’s tears already fell long beforehand, his eyes rimming with red as he chuckled lightly to himself. What a mess he was. To think he would never  _ not  _ be a mess in front of this man. “I know you do, Lan Zhan.” He wiped his own tears before his husband could reach them. “That’s why I love you so much.”

_ Wei Ying. _

That voice...

“Wei Ying.” Thumbs brushed next to his, hands colliding together.

(Someone finally spoke his name.)

He may not have caught the sun in his past life, no, but he had the moon in his clutch, wrapped in his arms along with the stolen sky. And he did not have to run anymore to chase it. Lan Wangji was right here, bright and lovely under his chin. He started to chuckle, sandalwood-scented hair infesting his senses. “There was so much that happened in our lives. I met you so many years ago and look at us, like this.” He held him tighter. “We’re together again.”

“We’re together again.”

“After all my luck, the chaos, and the world gone haywire, we’re still here.” He sighed, an evident smile strewn upon pink lips. “I couldn’t ask for anything else.”

“Mm.” Lan Wangji agreed.

“And the world still doubted us.” He scoffed. “But we made it.”

“We were young.”

“We really were.”

“But Lan Zhan.” The conversation descended into another night, a clear one just days after. The crickets buzzed faintly as the moon spilled through thin screens, beaming at the center of clouds above Lan Wangji’s forehead. They both stood, Wei Ying carefully taking the ribbon between gentle fingers. “Just because we were young didn’t mean we knew nothing.”

“I did not know much until Wei Ying came.” He intoned, eyes glossy with truth.

He laughed. “The same goes for me.” He folded the cloth carefully, neatly wrapping it up for tomorrow's use. “But I knew one thing for sure after we met.”

“Hm?”

“I knew that I loved you.”

**_『 知 zhi 』_ **

_ “to know and understand and recognize you _

Lan Wangji spoke behind fluttering lashes. “I knew that I loved you, too.”

**_『_ ** **知己** **_zhiji 』_ **

_ the knowing of oneself--the mirror of my soul _

Before one or the other could melt in another mess of a puddle, Lan Wangji pulled Wei Wuxian into a kiss, one that cast shadows before flickering candles and flux soft sighs from the latter. The collision of their supple lips drew out moans from Wei Wuxian as he pressed his lips harder against his husband’s, molding their bodies together in a suffocating heat. His hands found their way tangled in silky hair, the strands smooth against skin. The velvet of his mouth met the cushion of Lan Wangji’s cheek, taking his time breathing small flames against his jade-like surfaces. Wei Wuxian felt him shudder close to his ear, before biting fiercely at his lobe and down the side of his neck.

The rhythm of their sensual dance bled a passionate red, blooming desire in their chests. Hands on skin, the brush of robes stuck between knuckles, the flash of collarbones--it was a pattern they all knew too well. As one, they spilled onto the sheets, crinkling white fabrics marrying between ink spills of hair. The soft sounds of their kisses sounded through the jingshi, its own noise a stimulating incense. Within the city of clouds and the haze in their minds, nothing could stop them from reaching the heavens.

As they touched and felt they marked heated possessions on each other’s bodies, sighs like steaming pools escaped their lips, breathy against each other. A heat, penetrating and powerful met Wei Wuxian’s core like a flame rekindled. They fit so well in each other’s embrace, like the earth and sky between the mirror of one another.

They were breathless that night.

And when the last stars flashed before Wei Wuxian, making him come in a moaning mess, they entangled their languid limbs together. Their heat smothered under one another, growing limp with time. Shuddering breaths fell from their mouths, tempting another kiss to be bitten onto lips.

One kiss more, a small bite to the bottom lip. It was dreamlike.

And so they laid, refusing to fall asleep. Lan Wangji, with eyes that glowed in the darkness, carded fingers through his love’s hair, as the other spilled sweet nothings into his ear. Pillow-soft skin caressed his own as Wei Wuxian tilted himself up, leaning his weight on his elbow.

“Hm?” Lan Wangji paused his combing as Wei Wuxian stared at him. Lockets fell over his face. Lan Wangji was quick to curl them back behind his ear. Then, he smiled down at his handsome jade, his cheek colliding with his upturned hand. With his free one, he reached towards his husband, delicately sweeping his lashes to and fro.

Lan Wangji, oblivious as to what to do, mimicked his motion, seeking out Wei Wuxian’s fluttering lashes. He giggled immensely. Older and wiser, lost and found, they toyed with one another’s features to fill the silence.

Wei Wuxian whispered. “Hey.”

A lock of Lan Wangji’s hair was curled over a singular digit, placed accordingly to frame his face. “We should sleep.” His husband suggested, eyes swirling melts of gold. They bore into him without fragility.

“I still want to see you.” He teased.

He talked through a grin. “I will always see you tomorrow.”

“My Lan Zhan…” An urge to snuggle close overcame him as he made his way toward Lan Wangji’s broad chest, eager to melt into the low rumble of his breathing, and the steady beat of his heart. “Yes. You will. We’ll always see each other from now on.”

“Always.” He was quick to grasp his love, the thought of letting go impossible.

“Always.” He murmured, settling within warm limbs.

There was silence, the sounds of soft breathing evident in the air. “Hm, Lan Zhan?”

“Mm?”

Wei Ying craned his neck back to face Lan Wangji, their eyes meeting in an understanding connection. “Did you know if I was ever going to come back to you?”

It felt like forever waiting for an answer. The slow motion of Wei Wuxian’s mind twisted and turned to answers he would assume he would say, yet none seemed realistic or adequate enough. Of course he would lose hope in him, perhaps move on completely. No one could linger on a simple soul like his.

But then he stopped thinking, his mind silenced.

He  _ knew  _ Lan Wangji would never give up on him.

They sought each other through their eyes. Then, Lan Wangji smiled down at him--genuine and affectionate, and with one tiny breath, cascading over his husband's lips, he whispered.

“I knew.”

(I knew it can’t be anybody but you.)

They saw each other again tomorrow.

_ was there ever a war in your mind? _

_ once; but he ceased its end.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! ✰ comments and kudos are always appreciated! :)


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